


La Carlota

by Kaffee



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, Historical References, Lots of wine, M/M, Original side characters, Pseudobulbar affect, Slice of Life, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaffee/pseuds/Kaffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Slice-of-Life story. Lovino needs to get away from his family, and his personal vacation leaves him stranded in the Spanish foothills at the mercy of a tomato-loving vineyard owner who can't seem to get out of his head, or his heart.</p>
<p>Inspired by the feeling of being in love.</p>
<p>X-posted to FF: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10015803/1/La-Carlota</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leaving

The sky had opened up sometime during the day and let loose a torrent of rain that soaked Milan to the bone despite the heat that lingered in the air. Lovino was sweating terribly with both effort and humidity as he carried his heavy suitcase to the trunk of his car. He’d never liked the rain, though it was common in the city, and it had been a relatively dry July until this day. The day he’d decided he’d had enough of this place and he just had to _go_.

He slammed the trunk closed, tossed his messenger bag into the back seat, and started the car. It rumbled unhealthily for a moment, but evened itself out soon enough. Lovino was sitting in the driver’s seat turning the air conditioning on to relieve himself when the front walk suddenly lit up and the door to the house flew open.

“ _Fratello_!” Feliciano wailed as he hurried across the stone walkway and over to the car. Lovino’s letter was clutched in his trembling hand. The elder brother stood from his seat in exasperation.

“Feli, get back inside,” Lovino ordered, frowning. He’d really hoped that Feliciano had been asleep. It was late, and his brother had class in the morning. Plus this just made the goodbye even more trouble than he’d wanted. Unfortunately, his life was just never that easy.

Feliciano sniffled and shook his head. “No, Lovino! I’m not going anywhere! Why are you going? I thought, I thought you were happy! I don’t want you to go, don’t leave _Nonno_ and _Babbo_ and me all alone…” The smaller brother wiped his arm under his nose as he cried.

Lovino huffed before pushing Feliciano’s shoulder to turn him back towards the house. “It’s in the fucking letter, stupid! You aren’t alone. I just… need to get away for a while, alright?” He paused, listening as the air conditioning rattled behind him. “I promise, Feli, okay?”

There was another sniffle and Feliciano crossed his arms before nodding. “As long as you come back…” He reached up and unclipped a necklace from around his neck, then stepped forward and circled it around Lovino’s. “For you, _fratello_ , so that you’ll think of us, okay?”

“N-no, I can’t take this, Feli. This is yours, it’s from Mamma,” Lovino said quickly as he saw the golden cross laying against his chest.

Feliciano shook his head before finally backing away. “You just need time, right, Lovi?” he said, smiling, “I expect you to bring it back to me!” And with that, he rushed back towards the house, and the porch light went off.

Lovino released a long sigh, grasping the cross in his fist, then turned around to get back in the car. He sat for a moment to contemplate his promise to his little brother, knowing that Feliciano would keep his word to his grave. With a slight smile to himself, Lovino put the car in gear and was on the highway toward who knows where within minutes.

-

Lovino really didn’t know where he was going. He’d just decided he needed to go, so he packed up as many clothes as could fit in his one suitcase and left. He had money, definitely, and his car, and that was all he really needed. His phone was turned off and stashed in the back of the glove box, and he’d left his laptop at home.

At the moment, he was on a main highway somewhere in the south of France, the coast rushing along beside him. The weather here was still warm, but with it being just past dawn and with the ocean air flowing past his open window, it was cooler and a lot less muggy than it had been back in Milan.

The thought of home made Lovino’s chest ache and he took a sudden exit, following a road that carried him straight through to Perpignan. He yawned loudly. He’d been on the road since midnight, listening to late night radio stations for people to call in for relationship advice. It was amusing to say the least, especially since his French was still a little rusty so he only caught a few clips and phrases now and then. The general consensus was that whoever the woman on the phone was, she needed to take action and ask the guy she fancied out on a date to a restaurant if she wanted him to know that she was interested. Lovino laughed shortly and turned his car into the lot in front of a small motel. He contemplated booking a room so that he could get some rest, but decided against it and just pushed back his seat to lie down.

The car made a strange groaning noise as the seat was moved. He paused for half a second to make sure nothing sounded like it was falling apart before laying back and closing his eyes. The sound of birds and the distant ocean lulled him toward sleep, and Lovino was once again glad he had decided to do this.

All he’d ever needed was time, especially to himself. Sure the method in which he’d left had been quite unorthodox for their family, but he knew that Feliciano would cover for him to their father and grandfather, who were sure to be more than livid when Lovino returned home. Nonno had always been traditional in his ways, their father close behind. Both were very protective of the boys as well. Losing Mamma had been the breaking point for that.

It certainly wasn’t anyone’s fault she was gone besides the cancer’s. She was among the unlucky few. Lovino had contemplated following her a couple of times, but he knew he could never leave Feli alone. Feliciano was his life after Mamma was gone, and he and his brother were all Babbo had left. They had to take care of him, as he had taken care of their grandfather after Nonna passed.

Lovino had been there, protecting them, keeping them loved, for as long as Mamma had been gone. He had taken the role of man of the house, with Nonno’s old age and Babbo’s sadness at losing Mamma. Feli wasn’t as strong as Lovino in that respect.

And so, Lovino decided he’d needed a vacation. Years of running a household, making sure everyone was happy and taken care of because he had been the only one to step up and decide Mamma’s loss wasn’t the end of the world, had finally taken its toll on him, and he needed out.

Lovino’s eyebrows crinkled in the middle as he tried to remember what Mamma looked like. The vision was blurry, but he could remember the feel of her skin, the warmth of her fingers as they brushed through his hair. A hand came up subconsciously to grasp the cross that Feliciano had given him; Mamma had given it to Lovino originally, but he’d felt no need for it as much as Feli needed that connection with her. Lovino had gotten three more years with Mamma than Feli had, it didn’t seem fair. It had apparently made its way back around Lovino’s neck, though, and he realized he had missed the weight of it lying against his heart.

The sun was beginning its descent into the horizon by the time Lovino was conscious again. His car had gotten particularly warm in the midday heat, and he realized he was hungry. He slid out of the car with a whine when his back popped unhealthily as he stood, then found his wallet and jogged across the street to a café he’d spotted while pulling into the lot.

After filling his stomach with decently good French pastries and a shot of espresso (not as good as his own but enough to wake him up), Lovino was back in his car, the engine turning with a loud rattle, and he was back on the road.

Within thirty minutes, he was in Spain, and Lovino suddenly knew this was where he wanted to be.


	2. The Car

The road through Spain was pleasant. Lovino kept himself company with the static of the radio, singing along when he knew a song. He had always longed to see Spain, though he knew it wasn't much different from Italy in most respects. He'd practiced his Spanish diligently all through school and was near fluent now, a fact he was now grateful for. As similar as the language was to his own, there were still distinct differences that threw him off now and then.

Now that he was in the country, he was excited to see more of it, though he would never show it. He had stopped in Barcelona and Valencia as he drove along the coast, treated himself to some fine Spanish cuisine, and saw some sights before getting back on the road as the sky began to turn a vibrant orange.

Or at least, he attempted to, if his stupid car hadn't stalled.

He had parked on the side of a cobblestone road just outside of Valencia's city center as he roamed around, and when he finally made it back to his car and twisted the keys in the ignition, the engine groaned and fell silent. Fighting back tears, Lovino turned the keys again only to hear another noise of protest. He got out, circled the vehicle and kicked it three times in the door before sitting back down and laying his forehead on the steering wheel.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

He sat for a few moments before reaching up and twisting the key again. As he held it in place and the engine rumbled and rattled, it finally turned over and the car roared to life. Lovino sighed in relief and scrubbed at his eyes, wiping away the indignant tears that had threatened to fall. It would do him no good to get frustrated and angry too early into his trip. This was meant to be his relaxation! His getaway into the unknown!

After steadying his breath, Lovino shook his head and pulled his car back on the road, deciding to head west toward the foothills where he knew there were vineyards in abundance. Spanish wine wasn't nearly as good as Italian, or even French if he cared to admit it, but he would definitely not pass up the opportunity to get a few samples.

-

The radio crackled and simmered down to a faint hum of Spanish folk songs as Lovino continued his trek into the countryside. The sunset was rolling blankets of fire across the many untouched hills, and Lovino suddenly couldn't think of a time where he had been more content. He had been so consumed in trying to take care of everyone in his family that he didn't know when he had last taken time for himself. This road trip, as unorthodox as it was seeing as he had made no serious plans or commitments, was probably the best thing he could have done for himself.  
  
After a few more minutes being lost in thought, the Italian turned his attention back to the gravel road in front of him only to discover that the sun was almost completely gone, the only light remaining being a streak of blue on the horizon and the twinkling of the few stars that were already shining. It occurred to him that he probably should have stayed in the city and taken refuge in a hotel. Now, the road was stretched in front of him for miles and there was no sign of any other cars, let alone the light of a house, anywhere around him. A tendril of fear twisted in his gut. He was either stuck out here to sleep under the stars, or he would have to risk his gas tank and try to drive through until he reached civilization. He bit his lip, then decided on the latter. The weather was nice, but he would rather not be happened upon looking like a homeless person, especially being unbathed and in the ancient hunk of metal he considered to be his car.  
  
As if it had heard his thoughts, the vehicle gave a sudden lurch beneath him, the metal all around groaning as though it were being sucked into quicksand; all at once, the engine went silent. Lovino widened his eyes at the dashboard before pulling the car over to what could be considered the side of the road. The gravel crunched underneath the tires and dust was kicked up behind him. When he had finally pulled to a stop, he pulled the keys from the ignition and watched with helpless eyes as smoke billowed from the hood of his car and wafted away in front of the headlights. He covered his mouth with his hands. This could not be happening. His car did not just die on him and he was not stranded in the middle of a practical Spanish desert. He ignored the actual grass and wildflowers blooming around him to focus on the fact that _no one was around_.

Lovino stumbled from the car, nearly choking on the smoke that lingered. A quick touch to the hood revealed it was still searing hot and he decided he needed to call someone to come get him, even if it was the police in a nearby town. He pulled open the passenger door and fished his cell phone from the glove compartment. Lovino’s dark and slightly tearful eyes scanned the quietness of the hills surrounding him; the sun had completely set by this point, his only source of light the dim glow coming from his car. The stars were shining fully now, but it would be just his luck that the moon was nowhere to be found. He looked back down to his phone after holding the button to turn it back on, and was greeted with the momentary message that told him the battery was too low to power on.

The young man cursed his luck profusely, using nearly every curse word he could muster as he threw the phone into the glove compartment and slammed it shut. Silence closed in on him while he sat in the passenger seat with his eyes trained forward. The smoke had disappeared by now. Lovino heaved in a deep breath before getting back out of the car and testily opening the hood. Something in the machine sizzled, but it was no longer groaning or spewing smoke, so Lovino assumed it was at least safe to look at. Unfortunately, he knew next to nothing about cars - he could barely pump his own gas up until he had turned eighteen – and couldn’t even think of where to begin to see what was wrong with the thing. It had always been old, having bought it used two years ago from the money he had saved from his part-time job, but it had never had any serious problems until now.

Lovino stood back from the engine, his hands going back up to press their heels into his eye sockets. There was a lump in his throat that he was trying, and failing, to choke down even though he knew there was no reason to be so upset about this. He would just need to wait for someone to come along, surely these back roads weren’t completely deserted? After a few minutes he managed to catch his breath and clear his throat. _There you go, Lovino,_ he reminded himself, _everything will be fine_. The brunet let the hood of the car fall back down with an echoing bang, walking back around to pull his phone back out of the glove compartment and then to the trunk to drag his suitcase out and lean it beside the car. The messenger bag he had brought along was occupied by the dead cell and a leftover pastry from earlier that day. A quick look at the clock on the dashboard told him it was getting close to nine o’clock; making him grateful for the electric to at least still be working before shoving the now useless keys into his bag along with the phone.

Thirty minutes passed slowly. Lovino sat in the driver’s seat silently, his hazel eyes watching dust and fireflies float in front of the headlights, which he had left on just as a precaution, and totally not because the darkness was making him slightly worried. He closed his eyes to doze, when suddenly, as if a gift sent by God, the sound of a rumbling vehicle resonated down the road behind him. Lovino leapt up, sticking his head out of the window to see high beams glaring into his face. The other driver must have seen the red tail lights of Lovino’s car, because the beams dimmed significantly as they approached. The Italian said a silent prayer toward the sky before getting out of his car to hail the other car.

The lights became brighter, and now Lovino could see that it was a small truck that looked infinitely newer than his own car, but had a chipped paint job that was covered in a thick layer of dirt. It looked like it had seen better days, with an indent in the front bumper and a smaller one on the top of the hood. Lovino almost felt like crying again when the truck pulled up beside him and a significantly Spanish-looking young man, not much older than himself, hung an elbow over the lowered window and smiled widely.

“ _Hola_! You need help?”

Lovino took half a moment to consider the question, remembering that it was in Spanish and would require a Spanish reply. “ _Si_ ,” he began, his voice a little scratchy from his earlier tantrum, “My car broke down. Is there a way you can get me to a city or something?”

The other furrowed his thick brown eyebrows. “There isn’t a city for a few hours any direction. I live right outside of La Carlota, but I can tell you now that the inn there isn’t open this late. I have a spare bedroom at my villa, though. You can stay the night and I can drive you into town in the morning.”

A few thoughts ran through his head, but Lovino was tired and frustrated and none too happy with his situation to consider any of them. At this point, he would rather risk this guy being a murderer to sleep in a comfortable bed than to sit in the wilderness and stew in his own misery. He sighed.

“That’s fine. Thank you very much,” he breathed, wanting to smile back but resulting in a grimace. The Spaniard gestured to the bed of the truck.

“Go ahead and throw your suitcase back there, _se_ _ñor_ ,” he offered. He was still smiling. From what Lovino could see in the dim light, he had short scruffy hair and dark eyes on generally attractive features. The kind of guy that Lovino had envied his entire life. He hefted his suitcase into the bed and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Um… I’m Lovino, by the way.”

“Antonio Fernandez,” the other replied, supplying him with another beam, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lovi!”


	3. Fernandez Carriedo Viñedo

“So where were you headed?”

“Anywhere, really.”

Lovino caught Antonio’s surprised glance before the other man turned back to the road. They’d been driving for about fifteen minutes, the gravel winding farther into the hills. Fences had begun to pop up alongside the road and the Italian could see the far reaches of orchards and vineyards. The trees were becoming taller, the wildflowers less in abundance. He could only imagine what the view would be like in the sunshine.

So far Antonio had proven to be a lifesaver, but an annoying one at that. Lovino swore the man had not stopped smiling since they had first spoken; the ridiculous nickname he’d given the younger one was grating on his last nerve. His brother had always called him Lovi, and that name was almost exclusively for Feliciano to use. Antonio was already driving him mad even though the conversation was light, but Lovino’s head was aching from the turmoil he had been through and just wanted silence. However, Antonio was saving him from desertion and giving him a place to stay for the night. Lovino may have been rude, but not enough to get himself abandoned on the side of the road again.

Beside him, the Spaniard switched his hands on the steering wheel so that his elbow was resting on the armrest that sat between them. “Anywhere?” he parroted, “I’m not harboring a fugitive, am I?”

Lovino scoffed, his arms crossed over his chest. “No.”

Antonio nodded. Thankfully he was quiet for the next few minutes, and soon enough he was slowing the truck down and turning to drive through a tall wooden gate. Lovino chanced a look at the sign that hung at the top of the gate, the swirling wood-burned letters spelling out _Fernandez Carriedo Viñedo_. So this was a vineyard. The small road they were on led them up a gentle slope alongside a green pasture. Because of the darkness around them, he couldn’t see where the groves of trees and vines were, but he could picture them sprawling along the lower hills bordering the villa and the pastures. Lovino turned his attention back to Antonio as he pulled the truck underneath an overhang that stuck out from a wall that the Italian assumed surrounded the house. They stepped from the car, Antonio lifting the suitcase from the bed of the truck and leading the way through another wooden gate; this one was also preceded by a sign naming the vineyard, though this one was newer and looked professionally made where it was inset into the stone wall beside the gate.

Lovino continued to follow the other toward the house, their steps echoing off the stone walkway that led to the door. His eyes traveled around the courtyard and took in the deep shadows of the garden before Antonio opened the door to the house and lead him inside. He flicked on a lamp, which flooded the room with low light, and Lovino could see the door opened up into a large living room. It was connected to what was thought to be the dining room, the kitchen sitting to their left and only cut off from the room by a counter-height partition. The wall across from them was made almost completely of glass windows and doors that led to the patio.

He caught Antonio’s eye as the man watched him take in the view of the house. The Spaniard was smiling again, Lovino’s suitcase resting against his leg. “Home sweet home. It isn’t much but it’s just me out here in the off-season.”

Lovino found himself flushing a little as the other stretched, his t-shirt riding up on his torso. The younger of the two shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. “It’s not a dump at least.”

Antonio laughed and picked up the suitcase again. “I am not a slob, contrary to popular belief! Come on, I’ll show you the guest room.” He pointed toward a hallway to the right beside the entry door, marching them down a few steps before it turned to the left again into another hallway. This one was all doors, and Antonio pointed him to the first one on the right. Lovino opened the light wooden door to reveal a small room occupied by two single beds, a dresser, a wardrobe, and a desk. Yet another door on the other wall was closed, but most likely led to the bathroom.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was a guest room,” he commented quietly. Antonio came in behind him and dropped the suitcase on one of the beds. He stretched again and Lovino swiftly turned away to walk over and turn on the lamp on the bedside table.

The Spaniard shrugged, watching Lovino’s movements. “Sometimes tourists want a taste of the Spanish countryside, even more than the wine itself,” he said, “I have to be hospitable.”

Lovino appreciated how quiet Antonio had gotten, but he realized that perhaps they were both too tired to try and start or continue much conversation. He sighed and dropped onto the bed that didn’t hold his suitcase, pausing for a moment to collect himself. “Thank you. For letting me stay here,” he mumbled, “And I guess saving me or whatever.”

Antonio smiled again, though this time he looked very tired as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s no problem, my friend. It’s the least I can do for now, anyway, until we ride into town tomorrow.”

Silence filled the room for a minute. Lovino’s fingers clutched at the quilted bedspread beneath him, feeling his ears and neck heat up when he realized that the other was still standing in the doorway.

Thankfully, Antonio seemed to catch on to the awkwardness and he released a short laugh before backing up to leave. “Well, the bathroom is through that door there, working plumbing and everything! Towels and things are in there too, and make yourself at home. We’ll head to town whenever you’re ready tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Lovino repeated, attempting another smile. Apparently it was enough, because Antonio grinned in reply and gave a quick wink, the door closing behind him with little more than a click.

There was another moment of quiet as Lovino waited, then heard a door down the hall open and close. He laid back on the bed for a few minutes, listening to the sound of crickets outside the window above the beds. It really had been too long since he had last heard nothing but silence. It was a rare treat in the Vargas household, between Feliciano’s constant chattering and Nonno’s singing. Even when Lovino wasn’t at home, he was at work and encompassed in the bustle and din of the restaurant where he waited. His job was a good enough one, and since he had dropped out of school he was able to work as much as he was available. Being in the restaurant – a comfortable traditional Italian place that catered to Milan’s many tourists – was like being home away from home, surrounded in the smells of authentic cooking and the sounds of fluent and clipped Italian conversations and folk songs.

Lovino had told his boss that he was taking a vacation. He truly hadn’t given any sort of notice, and the man had been livid. The brunet was really not feeling any regrets about how he had left his job and his family in Milan. Nonno had been recovering, and Lovino could trust that he was at least capable of taking care of everyone. He supposed if his faith in Nonno was to be proven wrong, he would find out how much damage the man had done when he got home. Whenever that was.

The young Italian heaved a heavy sigh, random tears forming in the corners of his eyes and falling into his hairline. He really wasn’t upset anymore, at least not directly, but he couldn’t help but subconsciously worry over what to do about his car and the expenses for staying at the inn for however long it took for the engine to be fixed. Lovino had saved exponentially for this excursion, but he hadn’t necessarily budgeted for an entirely new car; he’d really only planned to drive around Europe for as long as he could and do some sightseeing.

The crickets’ chirping suddenly sounded louder than before. Lovino sat up and decided to get ready for bed, so he went over to grab his phone and its charger to plug them in overnight. He had promised Feliciano in his letter that he would at least check in to let him know that he was still alive. After fishing around in his suitcase for pajamas, he changed and crawled into bed, pulling the stiff quilt up to his chin. Within moments, Lovino was drifting off to the soft sounds of crickets and a light Spanish breeze floating beyond his window.


	4. Champagne

Lovino awoke to find that he was in the opening of a romance novel. There was the distant sound of birds and cows outside the window, the sunlight shining through the lace curtains, and the smell of a homemade breakfast wafted through the house. He rolled over and saw the red numbers of the alarm clock he had found on the nightstand last night saying that it was just past ten o’clock. With a slight groan, he sat up and grabbed his cell phone from beside the clock, turning it on and sliding it into the pocket of his pajama pants.

The scent of eggs and bacon permeated his nose as he woke up even more, and he stood and rifled through his suitcase to put on a shirt so that he didn’t seem indecent when he walked in on Antonio. Lovino yawned as he pulled on a plain undershirt and opened the door to his room. He was greeted by the soft sound of singing and the smell of breakfast hit him hard. His stomach growled. He closed the door behind him and wandered down the hall and into the living room, where he could see Antonio standing at the stove.

Shirtless.

“Shit-“ Lovino clapped a hand over his mouth and prepared to turn around, but the Spaniard seemed to have heard him and spun away from the stove, his own expression shocked.

“Lovino!” He stumbled as he stepped back from the stove and dropped the spatula he’d been holding. A flush turned his dark skin even darker and he circled around out of the kitchen, a hand crossing over his bare torso to scratch his shoulder. “I’m so sorry! I totally forgot you would be here! Let me go…” Antonio hurried past Lovino, who was still trying to hide his own red face, and disappeared down the hallway that the Italian had just come from.

Lovino faced toward the kitchen again, noticing then that Antonio had left the stove on and whatever was in the pan he had been cooking was more than likely getting burnt. He stepped forward and saw what looked to be an omelet littered with tomatoes; he could get into that. Glancing around at the counter, he picked up the spatula that had been abandoned and flipped the omelet, happy to see that it wasn’t burnt, before lifting it up and depositing it onto an empty plate that sat beside a bowl holding a whisk. The brunet noticed the rest of the ingredients, his mouth watering at the sight of another bowl brimming with Roma tomatoes. It wasn’t long until he had another omelet going, this time with more tomatoes.

He turned around to place the second omelet on the counter behind him, the plates now decorated with cheese he had found in the refrigerator, more sliced tomatoes, and a sprig of mint he pulled from a plant sitting on the window sill above the sink just as Antonio made his way back into the living room, pulling a shirt on over his head. Lovino glanced up, his flush returning slightly, and looked away to turn the stove off. He stood awkwardly when the other came into the kitchen and stared at the omelets in surprise.

“Well now I feel silly!” Antonio said, “I was supposed to be the wonderful host and surprise you with a nice breakfast.” He smiled brightly at Lovino, who shrugged and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. “Care to join me at the table?”

“Sure. Thanks.” The Italian followed as the older man grabbed the plates and carried them over to a breakfast nook that he just now noticed; it was tucked away at the end of the kitchen, pushed into the small area created by a bay window that looked out on a garden. Lovino couldn’t help but stare at the rows of fresh green plants that gave way to the hills of the vineyard, lines of grapes growing for as far as he could see. He sat down at the table, nodding in thanks as Antonio set one of the plates in front of him.

The Spaniard headed back toward the kitchen after setting his own plate down across from Lovino. “Would you like something to drink?” he called, the sound of silverware being pushed around accompanying his voice.

“Um, yeah, thank you.”

He returned after a minute or so, handing over a fork and a glass filled with something bubbling. Lovino looked at the drink with a raised eyebrow, then met Antonio’s gaze as he sat down and took a sip of his own drink with a smile. In the sunlight, Lovino was finally able to take in the man’s features. He was taller than the Italian by a few inches, his body lean but his arms strong from obvious work in the fields; when he had happened upon him in the kitchen earlier, Lovino had seen the muscles and tension in his back, as well as a glimpse of the hardness of his chest and stomach. The hair on his body was fine and almost invisible, but the mop on his head was a deep brown, choppy and thick and still slightly mussed from sleep. His face was strong as well, with the ghost of stubble on his jaw and eyes as green as leaves in summer.

He was intensely attractive, and Lovino suddenly found it difficult for him to look away. He did, eventually, if only to get to his breakfast before it became cold, and took a drink from his glass. The sizzle of carbonation woke up his taste buds and then he was hit with the tang and airiness of champagne. Lovino’s eyes must have widened in surprise because Antonio laughed shortly from his seat, attacking his omelet with his fork and chopping it into smaller bites.

“Sorry, I prefer wine with my breakfast but I figured I should ask before giving you something strong,” he explained, taking another sip from his glass.

Lovino shook his head and took his own drink before tucking in to his omelet; the tomatoes were obviously fresh, something he could very much appreciate. “It’s fine. Just took me by surprise. You would think I were still sixteen from the amount of alcohol my family lets me drink.” He scowled lightly, taking another bite.

Antonio was still watching him. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two. You?”

“Twenty-five.” The Spaniard smiled again as he swirled his champagne in its glass. He turned to look out of the window beside him before looking back. “So what brings you to Spain, Mr. Italy?”

Lovino raised an eyebrow again. “My accent is that horrible, huh?”

Antonio laughed and nodded. “Yes, but I can at least understand you, so you don’t have to be self-conscious about it.”

“I’m not self-conscious!” Lovino retorted, a blush reddening his cheeks. He went back to his food, gathering a couple slices of tomato on his fork and chewing them harshly. The jerk was still laughing at him. “At least quit laughing, jeez.”

The other finally calmed himself, waving a hand in surrender. “I’m sorry, Lovino! I was just teasing.”

Lovino rolled his eyes and went back to his omelet, finishing it in record time while he allowed his flush to calm down. He was sitting back in his chair waiting for Antonio to finish when he heard his phone go off in his pocket. The other man tilted his head in question as the Italian pulled his phone out and saw that the caller ID showed that it was Feliciano. He sighed and tapped the button to answer it.

“ _Pronto._ ”

“ _Lovino Romano Vargas, you had better have a damn good reason for disappearing,_ ” a deep voice demanded.

Lovino paled. This had been the one confrontation he was hoping to avoid.

“ _Ciao, Nonno…_ ”


	5. The Call

Lovino blanched at the sound of Rome Vargas’ voice over the phone. He should have known that his grandfather would get Lovino to answer the phone by using Feli's number. The elder boy did anything for his brother.

 _"Lovino, where the hell are you?"_ he demanded. His voice was gruff and strained, and Lovino knew he was holding back from screaming his lungs out.

"Nonno, I-"

 _"I do not want any excuses. Feliciano told me everything, I read the letter."_ Lovino's head dropped and he laid a hand over his eyes. As he leaned over the table, he ignored the soft questionings of Antonio, who was still sitting across from him.

"Nonno, please, I just needed a goddamn vacation, alright? I've been doing nearly everything in that house I can't even remember the last time I slept in." Well, perhaps today counted, but he wasn't about to tell his grandfather what he was up to. He supposed he could ask for a wire transfer so that he could get his car fixed, and yet he knew his pride would never allow it.

_"I don’t even care, Lovino! I just want to know where you are! For all we knew you were dead, Feli hadn’t even heard from you in almost two days. Do you have any idea how scared we were?”_

Lovino’s jaw tightened and he stood from the table in order to circle the living room, his free hand tucked under his arm while his head bowed. He willed himself not to cry but didn’t succeed as he felt the first sting behind his nose. “I just-“

 _“Just tell me where you are,”_ was the sharp reply, _“Give me a reason to not call the police and have you brought back home.”_

The brunet swallowed back the lump in his throat. His eyes flicked back to where Antonio was still sitting at the table, obviously trying not to listen in as he finished eating. When Lovino told his grandfather he was in Spain, he saw the other man glance over to where he leaned against the arm of the couch.

_“How in the world did you get all the way to Spain in that pile of junk you call a car?”_

“I drove,” huffed Lovino in reply, his eyes rolling.

 _“Don’t you dare get smart with me, Romano.”_ Hearing his middle name in that sharp tone carried Lovino’s thoughts back to when he was little and he got in trouble all the time, Mamma calling to him harshly by his second given name. _“Just, let me know you’re somewhere safe.”_ Nonno’s voice was getting gravelly, tired of being angry.

Lovino sighed into the phone. “I don’t know, it’s some little-“

_“How do you not know where you are!”_

“Nonno, I don’t know! My car broke down after I left Valencia and this guy picked me up so I wasn’t-“

 _“Dannazione, Lovino,”_ came the frustrated reply. The younger Vargas could practically see the way his grandfather was pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

Lovino stood up straight, pacing between the table and the couch. “I’m twenty-two, Nonno. I can take care of myself.”

_“Lovi-“_

“ _Fermarlo, nonno_! I can take care of myself and I don’t need you hovering over every little thing I do anymore. I’m not a kid anymore and you aren’t Mamma’s replacement! I don’t need you to fucking protect me. I’ll check in with Feli if I need to but I’m fine. _Ciao_.”

The phone was slammed down onto the end table beside the couch, next to a set of stone drink coasters and a rustic-looking lamp. A frustrated sigh escaped Lovino and he dropped back into his seat at the table in order to finish his breakfast, which had by now gone cold. He could feel his heart beat furiously in his chest, the tears already piling up behind his eyes. _Don’t cry, don’t cry_ , he muttered to himself. When Antonio placed a hand on his shoulder, Lovino’s stomach dropped and he suddenly remembered where he was.

“Are you okay?” Antonio’s voice was deep and laced with concern. The Italian’s breathing stuttered unhealthily.

Their eyes met. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, just… shitty family stuff. It’s no big deal.” Lovino forced his gaze away and felt the drip of a tear down his warm cheek. He quickly wiped it away then crossed his arms. “I’ve always overreacted to things, crying and crap like that. My… counselor said it’s called a pseudobulbar effect. There’s no reason for it, it just makes me freak out whenever I’m stressed.” A lump burned behind his Adam’s apple as he cleared his throat. “I-I’m sorry.”

Antonio was silent for a moment, but then he smiled and his hand moved from Lovino’s shoulder up to his face, where a rough finger brushed away another fallen tear. “Shit happens, Lovi. What do you say we go rescue your car and head into town to get all this off your mind for a bit?” His gentle smile turned into a grin as he stood and stretched widely.

Lovino watched the man move, a little shell-shocked at how easily Antonio brushed off his problem. It was probably the first time anyone had ever not pushed Lovino away or pitied him. Suddenly, it took all the young Italian had to not embrace him, and for once he didn’t feel like crying anymore.

-

An awkward silence fell over the house as both young mean retreated to their room to get ready. As Lovino toweled himself dry after a quick shower, he pulled a shirt on over his still-burning face. He still couldn’t get over how blasé Antonio was about him. They hadn’t even known each other for twenty-four hours and already Lovino felt like they had grown up together. Their conversations thus far had been light and friendly despite Lovino’s ever-changing moods, something that he would be eternally grateful for; at home in Milan, any topic was fodder for arguments or insanely awkward exchanges between the men of the Vargas household. The atmosphere had always been thick and heavy and Lovino avoided it as much as possible. He loved his family, he truly did, but how could he stay when he felt like he didn’t even know them anymore?

After a few more minutes and a brush through his hair, Lovino was dressed and sitting in the dining room again as he waited for Antonio. The sun had risen a little higher in the sky and a breeze had picked up outside. The leaves on the plants in the garden drifted lazily in the wind; Lovino had never felt more relaxed. He was watching a tomato plant bend in the breeze when Antonio made his way back into the living room, but turned to see him enter wearing a striped polo and unfairly form-fitting jeans. The younger brunet felt his face warm yet again and he returned his attention back to the garden outside with a small sigh.

“You still alright, Lovi?” asked Antonio from his spot at the counter where he was replacing a cork in the champagne bottle and putting it in the fridge.

Lovino nodded. “Yeah. Um, ready to go when you are,” replied, standing and sliding his wallet and useless keys into his pocket. He suddenly felt very silly in his dress shirt, vest, and fitted dark pants, feeling like he was severely overdressed next to his host. Following him out, he ignored the way Antonio looked him over with a small smile.

“You are very interesting, Lovino,” the Spaniard said suddenly as he closed and locked the door behind the other. Said Italian raised an eyebrow and walked towards the truck.

“How so?”

Antonio lifted a toolbox into the bed of the truck. “I can’t really say. I don’t know how, but you seem so mysterious. I feel like I’m in _Grease_ and you’re Danny Zuko!” He laughed, but earned a roll of hazel eyes and a scoff from his companion. Lovino shook his head, then noticed the trailer hitch on the back of the truck.

“What is that for?”

After glancing to see what he was talking about, Antonio’s mouth opened in an ‘o.’ “I put a hitch on so we can drag your car into town in case we can’t get it to start.”

Lovino gulped. He was so not ready to have to pay to get his car fixed, but there was still the possibility of it not being completely dead. “And since when were you a mechanic?”

“You know my friend Ned I told you about?” Lovino nodded. “He’s the town mechanic but he’s taught me most of what he knows. I can’t really diagnose every car disease but I know how to fix a flat tire at the very least,” explained Antonio as he dusted his hands off on his pants and climbed into the driver’s side of the cab. Lovino followed suit.

“Great, so I’m putting my car in the hands of the equivalent of a secondary student who works in his uncle’s garage for the summer.” The Italian’s eyes rolled again, but he provided Antonio with a slight smirk.

Antonio returned the look with a wink, which set Lovino’s face aflame.

“Just shut up and drive…” He was rewarded with another bright laugh and the truck was shifted into gear and rumbled down the vineyard’s driveway.

Lovino turned his attention away from where Antonio was tuning the radio to a local music station so that he could look out the window to the surrounding fields he had missed the night before. With the sun now shining brightly on the groves of grapevines and blankets of wildflowers, he could now see how far the hills expanded into the horizon.

From what he could tell, Antonio’s home was a decent thirty minutes from the actual town of La Carlota. Acres of hewn vineyard stretched to either side of the driveway and behind the house, surrounding it in a U-shape of grapes. Directly to his right, however, an open patch of land separated by a fence stood empty between the driveway and the start of the vineyard, obviously designed to be used as a pasture though Lovino didn’t see any horses. Fair enough; he hadn’t even seen a horse since he was small, let alone know how to ride one.

Looking through his passenger-side mirror, he could see the house rise up on the hill behind them. In the sunlight now he could see the pale orange stucco of the walls, deep red Spanish tiles on the roof, and the abundance of green surrounding it in a wild garden. It looked like a typical Spanish vacation home and he wondered how Antonio had come to be part of the wine industry and find such a beautiful representation of the culture so far out in the middle of nowhere. Lovino remembered him saying last night that it was just him in the house, but it seemed so lived-in, so homey. He could picture a large family, all looking like Antonio, gathered together at the large dining table on the patio with plates of food surrounding them and laughter in the air. They probably all would laugh like Antonio did.

The image of such a happy family burned behind Lovino’s eyes and he had to force himself to look away from the house as the truck turned onto the main road. He glanced back over to Antonio only to catch the man already eyeing him from the driver’s seat. Lovino flushed.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

Antonio’s green gaze moved back to the road, the lowered windows allowing the breeze from earlier to cool the warm interior of the cab. Lovino looked away as well and crossed his arms over his chest. Several minutes of silence, besides the soft static of the radio, followed.

“So what are we going to do if you can’t fix it?”

“Hm?”

“My car?” Lovino elaborated. He turned back to the Spaniard.

“Oh! Well, we will have to tow it back into town. Ned will be home in a few days or so, so he can fix it when he gets back if it isn’t something horribly out of my league.” Antonio shrugged, his eyes flicking between the pavement ahead and the rearview mirror even though they were alone on the road. It must have been a habit. “Hopefully I can fix it, though. I would hate to have you stranded out here for longer than you intended.”

The Italian in the passenger seat groaned and laid his head back on the headrest, his eyes closing. “There was no intention, but thanks I guess. No offense but I hardly know you. I’m surprised I woke up this morning instead of being dismembered and buried in the cellar.” He blinked one eye open as he smirked at the flush of embarrassment and amusement that crossed Antonio’s fine features.

“Believe me, Lovi,” he offered, his smile returning as something more hilariously sinister, “It wouldn’t be the cellar, your dead body would stink up the wine.”

A short laugh escaped Lovino before he swallowed it back down and shook his head at the idiocy of Antonio’s playing along. “Good to know you respect your alcohol.”

“Of course I do! This is my job, after all,” replied the taller brunet. His eyes shone with mirth.

Lovino’s head dropped forward and he looked over at the other man, seeing the opportunity to ask him about how he had come into whatever exactly his job was. However, just as he was opening his mouth to question him, Antonio started to hit the brakes on the truck and pulled it up behind Lovino’s car. Seeing it in the daylight like this just made it look so much more ragged than he remembered, making him feel embarrassed at the state of it.

Antonio parked the truck and climbed out, Lovino following suit. They stood, somewhat helplessly, beside the broken-down car and exchanged a glance.

“Well…” Lovino sighed and slipped his hands into his pockets.

“I guess we better get started?” Antonio’s own hands made their way to his waist for a moment before he walked around the truck to get his toolbox. “Here’s to hoping I can be at least somewhat useful.”


	6. Phrasing

“How’s it going, _Spagnolo_?”

“That is… maybe the fifth time you’ve asked me that in the past half-hour.”

“I know. But you still haven’t given me a prognosis.”

Lovino was sitting back in the driver’s seat of his dead car, his head leaning back onto the headrest and his fingers flicking the keys, which sat unturned in the ignition. Antonio, in the meantime, was hunched over the engine, his greasy fingers shoved deep into the heart of the tanks and gears that Lovino couldn’t even begin to list the purpose of. He had so far not done much except inspect the wear and tear of each part he could see and replaced the spark plug for the windshield wipers that Lovino hadn’t even noticed had burnt out; he’d just assumed three months ago that they had decided to stop working. Lovino felt particularly useless, but he had helped when Antonio had held something in place and asked him to turn the car on. It hadn’t worked.

Antonio banged a hand against a piece of durable plastic, clicking it back in place and asking Lovino to try the ignition again. It didn’t work.

“Well, I would give you a prognosis but I have no idea what is going on. It looks to me like it’s dead.”

“No, really? I hadn’t noticed.” Lovino flipped his head forward to see Antonio looking at him through the gap in the hood and windshield with a raised eyebrow. “What? Give me a shitty answer and I’ll give you a shitty response.”

Antonio’s green eyes rolled in exasperation and stood back from the car, wiping his hands on his thighs and lifting an arm to clean sweat away from his brow. “We should take it back to the garage anyway. I can probably get a better look from underneath but if it needs any serious work we’ll have to wait for Ned.”

“ _Urrah_ ,” The Italian muttered. He pulled the key out and slammed the door shut behind him just as Antonio closed the hood.

The older man patted him on the shoulder as he passed by to go back to his truck, depositing the toolbox in the bed and getting back into the cab to pull it in front of Lovino’s car. “We’ll get it straightened out, I promise. Could you stand there and make sure I line up correctly?”

Lovino was only half-listening when Antonio spoke and when he processed what he had said, he paused for a moment. “Wait, what?” Antonio stuck his head out of the window and raised a questioning brow. The Italian paused, his face flushed, then said, "Phrasing?"

It took longer than he thought it should have, but Antonio's cheeks darkened, his eyes became comically wide, and he tried to turn around in his seat too fast, succeeding in opening the door to the truck and falling out onto the dirt path. It was so ridiculously sudden that Lovino couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled up out of him before he covered his mouth and sputtered through his fingers.

Antonio rolled over in his spot on the dirt road and dropped his head in the dust, laughing widely with his hands over his eyes. " _Dios m_ _ío_ , Lovino!"

Lovino, still clutching a hand over his stomach as he cramped from laughter, stumbled over to where Antonio was in order to attempt to help the man back onto his feet. "Are you o-okay?" he managed through his shaking voice.

The Spaniard splayed his arms out from his sides before grabbing the hand that the other was offering and awkwardly pulling himself upright. "Yes, yes, I'm okay! Oh my goodness, I didn't think you would ever say something like that," he commented, wiping a tear from his eye as he got back in the truck, "I haven't heard a joke like that since my friend left to go back to Paris!"

With a shake of his head, Lovino backed away from the truck to stand next to his car, feeling a little awkward now. "I'm not completely innocent, you know. My cousin Sebastian is always going off about his 'fruitful' escapades." He heard a laugh from the cab of the truck just as it roared to life, but he could see Antonio grinning in the rear-view mirror when the vehicle was backed up to within a few feet of the nose of Lovino's dead car.

"Your family sounds very fun!" the Spaniard called. The truck was left running as Antonio jumped out again, still patting dirt off of his clothes, his teeth still shining; it was a wonder his mouth didn't fall off his face, Lovino mused, from how much he was always smiling. Smiling was tedious to the Italian, even though everyone said it took more muscles to frown than to smile (it was just a lot easier).

Lovino scoffed, but he watched the other squat down between the two cars to chain them together quickly. "If that's what you think. I have more horror stories than good ones, especially about my brother."

"You have a brother?" Antonio asked, gesturing for Lovino to get back into the truck so that they could head back towards town. He did so, watching his poor car tumble along behind them as Antonio turned the truck around to head back in the direction they had come.

"He's three years younger than me. And he's a pain in the ass," he explained. He loved Feliciano, he really did, but his brother was obnoxious to a fault. "He never shuts up, always going on about pasta and talking to girls and taking naps. He sings, too."

Antonio laughed, shaking his head. "He sounds like your polar opposite."

"Tell me about it," the Italian said, rolling his eyes, "I swear. I can't say I hate taking naps though." Even as he said this, he leaned his head back onto the headrest and closed his eyes, smirking lightly. "We're both cowards, though. We hate change and can't handle stress. He's just a klutz. I have my own reasons."

There was silence for a moment before an understanding hum escaped Antonio. "You are very lucky to have such a companion, Lovino. I never had any siblings so I can't say I understand how you feel. It was always just me, Mama, and Papa. Well, my grandparents, too. And my aunts and uncles and cousins. But for the most part they never lived with us."

"You have a big family."

"Sí, you should see our reunions!" The Spaniard laughed gently. "The women always cook, I help my father pick out the best of our wine, my little cousins run around with the dogs that they bring. They're very fun."

Lovino opened his eyes again, watching as they drove past the vineyard's gates, following the road that lead toward more civilization. He was eager to see what the town of La Carlota looked like. It had to be small, hopefully not as caught up with the outside world as Italy was. He was enjoying the break from technology and chrome finishings that seemed to dominate the modern world. It was like he had stepped backward in time.

"Your family would step all over mine, given the chance," he finally said, "My grandfather is strict. The only fun he is is when he's singing, but that usually gets Feliciano started, and when Feli starts it's hard to get him to stop. You have to bribe him with pasta to get him to do anything."

"Feli?"

"My brother," he answered, "There was one time, when we were little, when he decided he wanted spaghetti for lunch, so he took the leftover bowl from the fridge and dumped it into his school bag. Nonno was so mad because it was a new bag, neither of us got anything new for almost two months, even though our uniforms were getting holes in them." He smiled at the memory, his chest hurting slightly as he thought of Feliciano at home in Milan.

Antonio chuckled. "He seems like a handful," he said, "So you grew up with your grandfather? What about your parents?"

Lovino's mind came to a screeching halt and he swallowed harshly. Silence filled the truck for several minutes, until the dirt road widened and the outskirts of a relatively nice-looking village came into view. The Italian noticed Antonio looking at him from the corner of his eye, but he didn't answer his question.

-

The road became two rough lanes, then turned to worn-down asphalt as it continued into the older part of town on a main road. After a minute or so, they began to slow down and then turned into the parking lot in front of a large building listed as a mechanic's shop. When they stopped in front of one of the garage doors, Lovino jumped out to stretch his legs. Antonio followed suit, though he was pulling a cell phone out of his pocket and dialing a number.

"Hold tight," he told the younger man, "I'm going to call Ned to see if he can help me out."

Lovino nodded in understanding, turning his attentions to his surroundings. The buildings out here were shorter than what he could see of downtown, the road they had pulled off of leading to a gentle slope back the way they had come. He could hear the quiet bustle of village life, but it was exponentially quieter than what he was used to back in Milan. There was a soft  and relaxing feeling in the air. Definitely what he needed.

He turned his attention back to Antonio, who was leaning against the back of his truck and gesturing to the car, obviously trying to explain to Ned what he needed help with. Lovino tried to listen to what he was saying, but could only understand most of it; the rest was more than likely technical jargon that the Italian hadn't picked up in his extended studies of the Spanish language. He was beginning to wonder about this friend Ned, since Ned wasn't exactly a Spanish, or even Latin, name, and the signage on the shop was both in English and Spanish, with footnotes in another language he couldn't even begin to name.

Antonio pushed off of the truck and scurried over to the doors to the shop, feeling around behind a stone trash bin to find what was probably a spare key. Lovino watched him disappear for a moment, only to jump as one of the doors to the garage squealed open. He actually couldn't remember the last time he had been at a mechanic's shop, especially not when the doors were closed. His grandfather had been the one to make sure the oil in his car was changed and all of the maintenance kept up to date; Lovino was terrible with keeping up with things like that.

"Okay," Antonio sighed as he hung up the phone and walked back towards Lovino, "Well, Ned said that there's nothing we can do until he gets back, which won't be for about a week or so." The Italian paled. "N-not to worry, though! He said if he can leave sooner then he will, but he makes no promises. He just said to leave your car locked up and he can work on it then."

Lovino groaned, placing his head in his hand. "I should have known. It wouldn't start in Valencia. I knew I was stupid leaving there so late..."

The taller man frowned, but he rested a hand on Lovino's shoulder in reassurance. "Hey, don't beat yourself up over this, Lovi," he said gently, "Now, why don't we go get you a room at the inn? My Aunt Alma can get you a serious discount." He smiled.

Lovino wasn't sure what the feeling in his gut was as Antonio left him again to back his car into the garage. He felt like he was imposing on Antonio's life at the vineyard, but suddenly he wasn't so sure an inn would be as welcome a sight anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reference, here is the floor plan of Antonio's villa: http://tinyurl.com/ka9gzbu
> 
> The empty pace is generally smaller than that, but this is how I definitely imagine the home being laid out. I spent too much time making that plan ahahaha~
> 
> Sebastian is Seborga, by the way.


	7. Mamá

The village of La Carlota wasn't much different from what Lovino had expected. After dropping the car in the garage and locking up again, he and Antonio had made their way through town to the other side, passing a well-populated main road littered with shops, historic buildings, and apartments and duplexes. The road ran straight through with other streets branching off of it, though it was obvious that this was where life in La Carlota was centralized. They drove by a cobblestone plaza surrounded by trees that stood in front of what looked to be the town hall. It was a large white building with clay roof tiles, very much like the rest they passed by.

The silence wasn't as awkward as it had been leading up to this point, despite Lovino's very obvious avoidance of the question Antonio has posed about his parents. The Italian wanted to tell him, but he didn't want to at the same time. He felt like he needed to know who Antonio was, who his parents were, before he graced the man with his big reveal. It wasn't that he didn't like talking about his parents, but his _Mamma_ was special to him. His _Babbo_ , his father, was a different case.

Lovino didn't have aunts and uncles, as far as he knew. His mother had been a single child, Nonno and Nonna stopping after their one little girl was born too early in their years; his father brought in a sister-in-law that visited every now and then, the mother of Lovino and Feliciano’s cousin Sebastian. Lovino had liked the solitude that he and Feliciano had, however, it made him feel like they had more time to get to play together, to learn each other and become as close as they had. He couldn't imagine life without his brother, even if he did irritate him most of the time.

His musings were brought to a close as Antonio pulled the truck to a stop in front of an outdoor inn. It was shaped like an L, with only about fifteen rooms that he could see. Bright orange stucco walls with red doors jarred his eyesight, but he was thankful for the distraction as Antonio led him to one end of the inn. Immediately the sound of yells and laughter from children greeted his ears, and he was met with the sight of a group of them playing outside of an office that sat along one wall.

Lovino watched with amusement as Antonio gestured for him to be quiet. "What are you doing?" he asked gently.

Antonio winked. Turning back to the children and taking a step closer to their game of what looked to be tag, he set his feet apart in a powerful stance and placed his hands on his waist as he yelled at them sternly. "Ricardo!"

A boy no more than eight stumbled to a sudden halt, looking around like he had been caught doing something bad. Finally, he glanced back to Antonio and broke out into a grin, very reminiscent of Antonio's own. " _T_ _ío 'Tonio_!"

He caught the attention of the rest of the children he was playing with, all of them looking on with new excitement and repeating the same endearment. They ran over to the two young men eagerly, all looking for the chance to greet Antonio personally or introduce themselves to Lovino. The Italian watched them, bemused.

Antonio picked up one little girl, probably around the age of six, wearing a pale green dress; Lovino was momentarily distracted by how the color brought out Antonio's eyes. She was giggling in his arms as the Spaniard said hello to her and turned her around to face Lovino.

"Ana, this is my new friend Lovi. Lovi, this is my littlest cousin Ana," Antonio introduced. The girl smiled and waved at him before holding a hand out to shake.

Lovino smiled at her gently and shook her hand, then kissed it. " _Ciao, bella_. It's nice to meet you," he greeted in Spanish. He saw her blush cutely and hide her face in Antonio's neck. The taller man raised an eyebrow and smiled at Lovino, who shrugged and greeted the rest of the children the same way.

"My, so he is Italian?"

He glanced up again to see an older Spanish woman making her way over to them with a matching Fernández smile. Her face was wrinkled with slight age, though she couldn't have been more than fifty. Her long graying hair was braided up into a bun and she wore a floral printed dress over leather sandals. She wandered over to them, shooing the kids around her in order to lean up and kiss Antonio's cheek. " _Hola, Mamá_ ," the man said, slightly exasperated as he set Ana down on her feet.

"You are filthy, 'Tonio, what have you been rolling  around in?" the woman chastised while brushing dirt off of Antonio's shoulders and plucking at the grease stains on his shirt. "I thought I told you to stop digging around in the tomato plants; they'll come up on their own time."

Lovino laughed a little at that, earning a gentle smile from her.

"I'm sorry, I forgot myself! I'm Antonio's mother, Sofía. To whom do I owe the pleasure?" she presented, holding out a hand.

The Italian took it, noticing how soft and cold her wrinkled skin was, and gave a kiss as he had to Ana. "Lovino Vargas, _señora_ , it's very nice to meet you."

Sofía blushed and placed a hand to her cheek. "A charmer!" She poked Antonio in the shoulder, obviously hard enough to shock for her age given the wince the young man gave as he rubbed the spot she had abused. "Don't let this one go, Antonio, he is definitely a keeper," she said.

Antonio and Lovino's faces both burned with blood at the comment, the former waving his hands erratically in protest. " _M-mamá_ , no! It's not like that, he just-"

She shook her hand in his direction, but turned to wink at Lovino, who was staring at his shoes with sudden interest at the gesture. "Whatever you say. Oh, 'Tonio, I'm sitting with Alma, who is probably who you are here to see. Come, come, I'll get you boys something to drink."

Antonio, still flushed, began to follow after her as she walked back towards the office. "She means well, but she says whatever comes to her mind. I'm sorry, Lovi," he explained, smiling back at him.

Lovino shook his head, the redness in his face dimming somewhat as the man walked away. Antonio was suddenly bombarded by Ana and another girl and proceeded to lift each one up on his arms. Lovino tried not to stare at the way the Spaniard's arms flexed and stretched underneath the fabric of his polo.

-

The two young men soon enough found themselves seated in the office of the inn, cooler-chilled soda bottles in each of their hands. Antonio was giving himself a few moments to catch up with his mother and aunt before he launched into the reason of why they were there.

His Aunt Alma looked much like her sister, though younger and with darker hair. She wore capris and a button-down blouse with no sleeves, bracelets littering both of her wrists. Lovino was impressed by how fashionable the woman was, but he couldn't keep his attention off of Sofía.

Soon enough, the ladies decided they had had enough chatter, and Sofía looking knowingly at Antonio, who was twisting his unopened bottle in his hands. "What do you need, 'Tonio?" Alma followed her gaze, her smile brightening when she made eye contact with Lovino as well.

"Well," Antonio started, "It's about Lovi, here. His car broke down just past the vineyard last night, so I towed it to Ned's shop. But, he won't be back for another week or so."

Alma nodded in understanding. "Has he gone back to visit his sister again?"

Her nephew returned the gesture with a gentle smile. "Bella will be coming back with him this time. She graduated from university so she's taking a year or so to travel, but you know she would rather be working in the shop with Ned."

Both older ladies laughed, Alma turning her head once to the window to check on the children still playing outside.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you could put Lovino up in one of your rooms? I can pay the fee, I just don't want him to feel uncomfortable."

Crossing his legs as he leaned back in his seat, Lovino tried not to be ungrateful. He had felt more relaxed than anything waking up in the villa that morning, and now he suddenly couldn't even imagine waking up anywhere else. However, Antonio was offering, and he didn't want to overstay his welcome. He glanced up when Sofía made a disapproving noise.

"Keep him in a dingy hotel room?" she commented, patting Alma on the arm as the inn owner shrugged and smiled, "Let him stay at the villa! Isn't that where you stayed last night?"

She directed her last question at Lovino, who sat up and nodded. "I don't want to be a burden, though-"

"Nonsense, _se_ _ñor_ , Antonio is a host year-round. It doesn't bother either of us."

Lovino's mouth snapped shut as he felt his cheeks warm at the invitation. Antonio glanced back at him and they shared a tiny smile. " _Mamá_ is the owner of the villa when it's a tourist scene. _Papá_ is out of town right now at a wine conference, he runs the vineyard. It is technically my place because I live there, but mainly as a housekeeper," the older man explained,  his smile stretching when his mother leaned over and gently smacked his knee.

"Either way, Lovino," Sofía continued to say, "You are more than welcome to stay at the villa if you like. There is much  more room, and you seem the type to prefer his space." She got up from her seat in order to pat Lovino's cheek. The touch was comforting, a whirlwind of sweetness and memories that Lovino hadn't felt in years. He smiled gratefully up at Sofía.

"Thank you, _se_ _ñora_ ," he managed, "This means a lot to me."

In the background, Alma excused herself to the restroom, and the door to the office was opened suddenly to reveal Ricardo and Ana in the doorway, gesturing to Antonio. "Come on, _tío_ , come play with us," the boy begged, jumping up and down in place."

Antonio laughed, patting Lovino's knee as he stood up. Lovino followed suit, if only to come back to the same level as everyone else. The Spaniard, however, rushed out the door, flipping Ricardo over his shoulder as he made his way past a giggling Ana.

Sofía chuckled and looked back to Lovino, who was still watching the movements of his host. He had never felt so immediately welcome somewhere, especially into the arms of a brand new family. "You are a very lucky woman," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

She nodded, her hands on her waist. "Lovino, I want you to do me a favor." He glanced back over to her. "Be good to Antonio. He has thick skin, but he won't tell me that he is lonely at the villa. I can't stay with him, but your company seems to already be doing wonders."

Lovino nodded shortly, his eyes betraying himself as he felt the usual tears spark behind them. "I think I know how he feels."

"I hope this is not too much to ask, though," said Sofía, her hand resting on his shoulder, "I know we have only just met, you and Antonio as well." Her eyes shone with something as she looked at him, before steering him gently towards the door and opening it for him. "I think you will make a good team."

The Italian smiled at her one more time, this one smaller and appreciative. "I will do that for you, señora," he agreed.

"Good." Turning back to the commotion outside, she called to everyone there. " _Hijos_! Lunchtime!"

Antonio slowed to a halt as he gave his attention to his mother and new friend standing in the doorway, balancing another little girl on his back. He grinned and waved at Lovino, who rolled his eyes in return, then came closer. " _Hola_."

"I'm Lucía!" the girl introduced, letting go of Antonio's neck to wave as he slid her down off his back.

Lovino waved back at her and told her his name again. The Spaniard beside them laughed gently, then placed a hand on Lovino's elbow, motioning for them to follow everyone inside. "Let's eat. My mother makes the best _Estofado de Pollo_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we will get somewhere soon... Be patient loves <3


	8. Over Coffee

Lovino awoke once again to the smell of freshly cooked food. The window above his bed was closed, but he could also hear the light sounds of rain and feel the humidity in the air. The fact that there wasn't sun shining behind the curtains reminded him of the day he had left home. It was now four days since he had packed up his life and drove away, two since finding out his car was completely shot and meeting Sofía.

The lunch that day had been wonderful, the woman living up to Antonio's exclamations of making the best stew. The group had sat around a table and asked Lovino about his life in Milan and why he had traveled to Spain in the first place. He was hesitant, mostly because he didn't want to bore them with his drama and partially because he didn't think anyone needed to know at this point, and he was thankful when Antonio had directed the conversation towards the current goings-on of the vineyard and away from the stressed Italian.

Lovino learned that Antonio truly had a huge family. He was an only child, but he had aunts and uncles and cousins and in-laws to spare. A few of the children that the younger man had met that day, including Ricardo, were Antonio's nieces and nephews, and even Ana was his youngest cousin. Lovino's family had always been small after Mamma had passed, so the chaos of the lunch with Antonio's relatives was a wave of new people and interactions that Lovino hadn't even known he'd been craving.

They had gone back to the vineyard that night with good tidings and a plastic container of the _estofado_ from Sofía. There had been a quick stop at a market for a few groceries before making the trek back home. Lovino had apologized once more that night for intruding, but a pat on the head and a smile from Antonio had stopped him short. Lovino went to sleep with his cheeks burning.

The next day Lovino awoke late in the morning only to find that his Spaniard host was in the garden tending to the vegetables. He helped Antonio harvest even more tomatoes, stealing one to snack on when the other decided to give him a tour of the vineyard. The place stretched for a mile or so in each direction, one of the largest groves in the area after being cultivated by the Fernandez family for three generations. They walked along a path made by carts for about an hour before deciding to stop and eat; the _estofado_ had tasted hotter than before.

The gardening was finished just as clouds began to roll in and started to drench the land around them in a humid rain. It was still pouring when Lovino realized he had left his shoes out by the shed, where they haphazardly tossed their tools as they rushed back inside to beat the rain. The Italian almost wanted to leave them to their own devices before he remembered he had only brought one other pair of shoes with him, so he rolled up his pants and ran into the downpour to fetch his shoes. Antonio was waiting with a towel when he came back in, dripping all over the kitchen floor, and he dropped it over Lovino's head with a laugh. They talked about the worst storms of their lives over a bottle of the vineyard's wine for dinner and bade each other good night with flushed faces.

Lovino was sure that the rain hadn't stopped all night, though it certainly sounded lighter this morning than it had the evening before. He huddled under the blankets, thankful for the extra quilt that he had found in the wardrobe, and tried to fall back asleep, but the distant sound of thunder distracted him. He slid out of bed with a groan. Whatever it was that Antonio was cooking this time smelled fantastic, anyway, so he might as well be sociable.

After his quick morning routine was finished, complete with blow-dried hair and freshly-cleaned face, he wandered out into the living room, seeing Antonio leaning on the counter and staring out the window above the sink with a wistful sort of look.

"Morning, _Spagnolo_ ," Lovino chimed in, startling the other to turning around and grinning at his guest.

"Good morning, Lovi," he greeted cheerily, "did you sleep well?"

The Italian shrugged and took a seat at the breakfast nook table. The scent of roasting meat was stronger now that he was in the main portion of the house, though he didn't see anything on the stove.

"I guess so. It's been a while since I've had that much wine so I wouldn't be surprised if I did." He raised a foot onto the seat of the chair so that he could rest his head on his knee. Antonio was still leaning on the counter, though they were facing each other now. The taller man was smiling (still, Lovino noticed) at him steadily, and seemed to be watching the little movements that Lovino made as he sat at the table.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the wine," Antonio said, "It was one of my grandfather's most famous recipes before he retired. It still sells the best of all our varieties." He pushed himself up and went over to the coffee machine on the other side of the counter, taking a mug down from a cabinet as he went. "I didn't make much for breakfast, just some _bollos_ with jam. Do you want some coffee?"

Lovino hummed in approval, closing his eyes; the rain always made things feel gloomy and slow, and now that he was up, he began to feel tired again. He heard Antonio laugh lightly before he felt the man come closer and set the mug on the table beside him. He opened his eyes, seeing the other bringing over the carton of milk and a small sugar container.

Antonio sat at the same seat he had two days ago with what Lovino assumed was most likely a fresh cup of coffee for himself. The Italian shifted in his chair, pouring a generous amount of milk and a spoonful of sugar into his mug.

"So how did you meet Ned and his sister?" Lovino muttered, staring down at his coffee as it mixed together.

Antonio set his drink down and blinked. "That's quite random."

Lovino shrugged again and took a sip from his mug. "Just wondering. You seem pretty close with them from what I've heard you say."

"I would say it was a long story, but it's actually quite simple," the Spaniard replied, chuckling.

Lovino smirked lightly. "Regale me."

Antonio easily returned the smile. "Alright then. We actually met in secondary school. We were I think twelve? Ned and Bella's father works for the government in Belgium, and his work moved him to the embassy in Madrid, but he didn't want to live in the city. At the time, my parents and I were living just outside of Madrid, so we ended up living very close to each other. We met because Ned was in my class, so since I was the one who knew the most English, I was able to help him understand some of the Spanish so that he could still learn things. Bella is your age, actually, so she was in a different class, but we ended up all spending time together at recess and learned we lived near to each other."

"It does seem simple enough," Lovino commented when Antonio paused to take a big gulp of his coffee.

"Mm-hm." The Spaniard hummed into his cup before setting it down again. "We continued to be friends until Ned and I graduated and they both moved back to Belgium. Ned went to university and then came back here to buy the car shop when he found out that we were moving to La Carlota. He says he likes the energy of the town more than anything." Antonio let out a short laugh. "And apparently it's cheaper to live here than back home for him, so there is that!"

Lovino shook his head and sipped at his coffee. “I can't imagine what friends of yours are like. I doubt they're anything but cheerful.”

With a shrug, Antonio stood to refill his mug. “Actually, Ned is pretty quiet. You would probably get along well with Bella though, she's quite the character. She's very self-sufficient and... opinionated, I guess."

“Two of a kind, then,” the Italian added, “You said they're both coming back from Belgium?”

Antonio nodded as he returned to the table with the plate of _bollos_. Lovino gratefully accepted one to accompany his coffee. “Yes, they should be here in a couple of days now. And then,” he said, pointing towards the other, “we can finally get your car fixed.”

Lovino groaned. “Then I can go home, Feli will cry for a week, and I'll probably be disowned by my grandfather. Yay.” To his surprise, Antonio laughed.

“I'm sure it's strange coming from someone who has really only just met you, but I have faith that you'll be okay. I'm not kicking you out or anything so if you need some more time before you feel like you can go home, you know _mamá_ doesn't mind you staying.” Antonio smiled at him from across the table, leaning his chin in his hand. Lovino certainly did not feel his face heat up from the attention.

After a moment of embarrassed silence, Antonio blinked and looked questioningly at the other. “By the way, do you like karaoke?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the worst hello everyone been a while hasn't it :'D


End file.
